


stages of change

by rosetterer



Series: Stucky Farm AU [10]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: <- I can finally say that!, Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Farm/Ranch, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Anal Sex, Anger, Angst, Bad Parenting, Bottom Bucky Barnes, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Bucky is 19, Conversations, Crying, Daddy Issues, Daddy Kink, Desperation, Dirty Talk, Dirty Talking Bucky Barnes, Dirty Talking Steve Rogers, Dom/sub Undertones, Drama, Dysfunctional Family, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotions, Enthusiastic Consent, Eventual Smut, Family Drama, Family Issues, Feelings, Flavored Lube, Fluff, Kinky, Kissing, Lumberjack Steve Rogers, M/M, Masturbation, Mutual Pining, Oral Sex, Part 10, Pining, Porn With Plot, Protective Steve Rogers, Rough Sex, Secret Relationship, Smut, Steve is still somewhere between 25 and 30, Stubborn Bucky Barnes, Top Steve Rogers, abusive behavior by parents, daddy Steve Rogers, that is not so secret anymore
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-06
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-12 13:41:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29885412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosetterer/pseuds/rosetterer
Summary: This isn’t how any of this was supposed to go. Both Steve and he had known that their secret would eventually come out, Bucky had just been hoping it would be on their own terms.The aftermath of Tasty (Part 1) and Eureka (Part 2.)
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Series: Stucky Farm AU [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1826242
Comments: 32
Kudos: 172





	1. precontemplation

There is not much else to do but to stare at the wooden ceiling of his room. Bucky lays on his bed, as he has done since the morning, and thinks about where his parents could have hidden his phone. They had taken it away the moment Bucky and his mother had gotten back from Steve's three days ago.

Bucky reaches into the bag of chips, only to find nothing left but dust. With a sigh, he pushes it off the edge of his bed. He is hungry and feeling sick from eating nothing but chips and energy bars. He has smelled the amazing scents coming from downstairs when his mother cooks every night but has managed to refuse the temptation.

He'd rather starve than talk to them.

This isn't how any of this was supposed to go. Both Steve and he had known that their secret would eventually come out, Bucky had just been hoping it would be on their own terms. He hadn't expected a good reaction but nothing like this.

It's been so long since he and his mother have fought like this, and it brings him back to his early teenage years. Back then, there was never a peaceful day in the house.

The door to his bedroom is opened without a knock, and his mother walks in with a laundry basket filled with clean, folded clothes. Bucky doesn't look at her, just slumps back against his pillow and sighs.

He hasn't been doing any housework ever since what happened, happened and he refuses to feel bad about it. It had been Steve who'd made him grow up enough to do his own laundry, do the dishes whenever it was needed, and so on. Before him, he hadn't been very good at helping around the house.

Bucky can't help but notice that no sounds are coming from downstairs. The TV isn't on, and it's way too early for his father's daily nap. He's not home.

''Where's dad?'' he asks nonchalantly.

His mother finishes putting the laundry away. ''He went to see Steve.''

''What?'' Bucky asks, sitting up, his eyes wide. ''Why?''

His mother doesn't say anything, just shoots him one of her looks.

''He's not going there to hurt him, is he?'' Bucky can't help but ask, his legs now dangling over the edge of his bed. ''Tell me! I swear to God if he does anything to him, I'm gonna fucking kill him!''

''He went there to talk,'' his mother tells him calmly and closes the door to the closet, starting to make her way out of the room.

''Why didn't you stop him?! You know how he is when he's mad!''

''Well maybe you should have thought about that before,'' she tells him and closes the door behind her as she exits.

Bucky groans into his hands, tears of frustration dripping down his cheeks. He lays back down on the bed, his back toward the door and he lets it all out.

Steve had told him it was going to be okay.

Right now, it doesn't feel like it is.

It's in the middle of the night that Bucky decides enough is enough. He throws the heavy blanket off of him and walks out of his room before he can change his mind.

He makes his way down the squeaky stairs and heads straight for the fridge. He wants to get his phone back but first, he has to get something else to eat, something other than the horrible snacks he'd been stashing in his room for lord knows how long.

He makes himself a couple of simple sandwiches in nothing but the light of the fridge and puts them on a plate, that he pushes on the nearest counter he can find in the dark.

If he were his parents, where would he hide the phone?

Bucky starts off by looking through the junk drawers in the corner of the kitchen but finds nothing there but batteries, coins, and everything else just as useless. He moves onto the lowest drawer of the cabinet where all the cheap champagne is kept and reaches out behind them, only to find some smaller bottles. With curiosity, he takes one and holds it up against the window from which the moon reflects some light into the house.

Vodka.

''Awesome,'' Bucky whispers to himself and puts the small bottle in the back pocket of his pajama pants.

He checks all the cabinets and even the freezer, because with his parents you never know, and makes his way back to his plate of sandwiches.

This is useless.

The light in the kitchen comes on just as Bucky goes to take a bite out of one of the sandwiches and he's faced with the sight of his father standing there only in his boxers, flinching at the light he'd turned on.

''What the hell are you doing here in the middle of the night?'' his father growls, making his way to the fridge.

''Got hungry,'' Bucky mumbles a reply, taking the plate in his hand.

His father grabs a water bottle from the fridge and looks Bucky up and down, focusing on the sandwiches he's made.

He nods. ''I see.''

His father has already turned around to go back into his and Winifred's bedroom when Bucky speaks up again.

''What did you and Steve talk about?''

His father stops dead in his tracks and for a moment, Bucky thinks he's not going to give him an answer.

''You know what we talked about.''

Bucky sighs. ''Is he okay?''

His father stands there for a couple of more seconds before continuing his way back to the bedroom.

''Go back to bed.''

Bucky waits until his father has closed the bedroom door behind him and walks away from the kitchen and into the living room. He moves the curtains there slightly, peaking through the window, and there's a light over at the Rogers' house.

Steve has to be okay. He wouldn't have the light on otherwise.

Every inch of Bucky wants to do nothing more but to walk out that door and never look back. His parents are deep sleepers, the situation with his father just now had been just a coincidence. He could get away with it and they wouldn't even notice he'd be gone until the morning.

He wants to do it, his mind is screaming at him to do it but he can't bring himself to move. He keeps staring at the light in the house only a little away from here and finally turns around, making his way back the steps into his room.

He can't risk making this situation any worse.

It has snowed during the night and to Bucky that means winter is truly here. He sits on the cold steps in front of their house, covered with a thick jacket as he watches his parents fiddling with the car, trying to figure out what is wrong with it.

They had asked Bucky to look at it, now that his father had finally given up on the hope of fixing it himself, and even though it had been more than clear to Bucky what was wrong with the vehicle, he'd just shrugged at them and told them that the car issue was a mystery. That he had no idea what was wrong with it.

It was a little petty but they deserve it.

''I'm gonna have to take it to town and have Jack take a look at it,'' his father says, scratching the back of his neck. ''I could ask about some new tires as well. I bet it's gonna get slippery soon.''

''I'll have to come with you, I've got shopping to do since our trip to the grocery store a few days ago didn't go quite as planned,'' his mother chimes in, making sure to look at Bucky at the end of the sentence.

After Bucky had thought he'd been able to explain Steve's presence at their house with the spider story, even though he'd known his mother had not completely believed the explanation, he couldn't have expected for her to actually wait near the house, hide somewhere and follow them back to Steve's house to make sure her suspicions were correct.

Bucky was just glad she hadn't decided to step in a moment earlier.

''Let's hope the car works all the way there,'' Bucky tells them, not completely sincere but not completely disingenuous either.

His mother climbs onto the passenger's seat of the car and his father makes his way over to Bucky. He places his hands on his hips and Bucky knows that can only mean one thing. A speech, or a threat, depending on the day.

''When we get back, I better not see any tracks on the snow, making their way to the Rogers' house,'' his father tells him, his voice sounding as cold as the air feels.

''I got it,'' Bucky replies just as dryly and watches his father get into the car.

The snow under the moving car tires melts immediately and soon the car is out of Bucky's sight. A breath of relief escapes him, coming out white in the cold air and he makes his way back inside, incapable of even looking over to Steve's house because he knows that the urge to go there can overtake him at any moment.

He kicks his shoes off near the front door and hangs his jacket on the hook next to the cabinet his father had made when he'd been young. His stomach rumbles and Bucky takes a step in the kitchen's direction when he notices that his parents' bedroom door is unlocked and open.

He turns around, his socks feeling slippery against the bare floor, and goes into the bedroom. It's not a place he's gone to in a long time, probably ever since he'd been a kid. It hasn't changed much from back then, other than the bed.

It would make sense to hide his phone here.

Bucky makes his way to the closet, deciding to check them out first before the nightstands because you never know what you'll find there and he's in no mood of wanting to know anything extra about his parents' life, especially in the bedroom.

His father's socks are all black or white, and they've been neatly put into a box that covers most of the shelf. Bucky moves it a little bit, reaching behind it and the feeling of something cool hits his hand.

He takes the object in his hand and pulls it out, grinning. It's his phone, the screen of it cold from the coolness outside that has made its way into the house as well. He unlocks it quickly and checks his messages.

Nothing.

The screen of the phone warms up in his hands, and Bucky writes a message to Steve.

> _Are you okay?_

He sits down on the edge of the bed, waiting for an answer. Steve usually replies to him immediately as he always carries his phone with him, even when working. Sometimes he can get busy though and doesn't notice a message or a call.

Bucky just has to be patient. It's not his strongest suit.

He types out another message and sends it.

> _I'm fine. Things are a little tense around here, I guess._

He waits for a minute, then five and then fifteen. There's no reply.

He types one last message.

> _I'm going to have to take the phone back to where my parents hid it from me because I don't know when exactly they'll be back. I know it's not anytime soon but I can't take the risk. I miss you. Don't answer this message._

Bucky takes the phone, deletes all the messages he'd just sent, and puts it back to where he'd found it before sneaking out of the room.

He goes upstairs and lies down on his bed, staring at the ceiling once again. The air in his room is cool as well, even more so than downstairs, so Bucky hides his hands under his pillow. He feels something there and pulls it out in one swift motion.

Steve's shirt. The one he'd left behind after one of their little _'sessions.'_

Bucky is aware that it's a bit weird but he can't stop himself from bringing the piece of clothing against his nose and taking a good sniff of it. It smells clean, just like Steve, and it makes him miss him even more.

He allows his free hand to travel down his leg, slowly making its way to his denim-covered crotch. It's been a long couple of days without Steve, and it's not just about the sex, but not having Steve around to… fool around with has definitely taken its toll.

Just the scent of him is enough to make Bucky hard.

The feeling of popping the button and undoing the zipper is relieving. Bucky sneaks his hand into his boxers and wraps his fingers tightly around his already hard cock. It's almost embarrassing what kind of a hold Steve, or Daddy, has on him even though he's not even here.

He moves his hand lazily first, enjoying the feeling of pleasure taking over his body for the first time since Steve had fucked him silly at his house. It's not the same, or anywhere near as good, but it's something.

Bucky gasps against the shirt he's holding close to his face and starts to move his hand a little faster, making sure to give his cock a nice squeeze right at the tip, the way he always does to Steve because it makes the man lose it.

Soon thick ropes of cum splatter against his white shirt as Bucky's hips jerk upward into his touch. He moans into the shirt he's holding and milks himself dry, not minding the mess he's created.

His softening cock falls against his stomach, and for a moment, Bucky feels better. He tucks Steve's shirt back under the pillow where he'd found it and places himself back into his jeans despite the uncomfortable sticky feeling and gets up from his bed again.

He goes over to the closet and grabs a clean pair of everything before making his way back downstairs.

It's in moments like this that he wishes he had his own shower upstairs.

The sound of the wind howling from the gaps around his window, and a loud crash from the yard, are what Bucky wakes up to. His pillow is wet as he'd fallen asleep right after the shower and he feels the cold all over his body as he hadn't bothered to untuck the blanket and get under it.

He shoots out of his bed and runs to the window. The chicken coop door is on the ground and the trees are moving back and forth because of the strong wind. The weather hadn't been this bad when he'd fallen asleep.

Bucky rushes down the stairs and into the hallway. He struggles to put his boots on as he's not wearing any socks and his skin is still a little 'rubbery' from the long shower he'd taken. Once he gets them on, he decides not to bother with the jacket and rushes out the door.

The chickens are freaking out in their coop but thankfully, they haven't run out like they usually do. Bucky lifts the door against the chicken coop and takes a quick look at it.

It's fine, but it has come off its hinges. He's told his father many times that a new door wasn't enough, they needed new hinges too.

With a grunt, Bucky lifts the door slightly, only barely getting it back in its place. It's rattling in the wind, and he knows it can't be trusted to stay up. Bucky looks around and spots the old wheelbarrow that had lost its tire a year or so ago.

He keeps an eye on the door as he runs to the edge of the house and starts dragging the heavy, made of metal, wheelbarrow toward the chicken coop. The metal is cold against his hands and Bucky can't believe he's doing this. That this is his life.

He likes his home, always has, despite his whinings, and especially now that he knows Steve, he wouldn't want to be anywhere else. He'd liked the city too, he really had but this is his home, no matter what.

But doing this as a job forever? Bucky wasn't too sure about that just yet.

The wheelbarrow leaves behind a horrible, ragged line on the frozen surface of the ground, and Bucky finally gets it close enough to the chicken coop. He walks around it and pushes it against the door.

The rattling stops and Bucky slumps down on the ground, exhausted.

The hot chocolate is bubbling in the saucepan and Bucky watches it like a hawk. There's a blanket wrapped around his shoulders, and Bucky sighs at the hail hitting the window. He'd much prefer to skip over to the part where the snow is actual snow and not some kind of wet mush. The beginning of winter is always the worst, as is the end of it. Everything's just wet and gross.

He grabs three cups from the cabinet and places them on the counter. He pours the hot chocolate into the cups, leaving what doesn't fit in them in the pan. He wraps his hands around his mug to warm up but doesn't bother even tasting it. It's way too hot, and he's in no mood to burn his tongue.

Only a moment after, the drops somewhere between snow and rain are illuminated by headlights and his parents' car pulls over to the yard. Bucky lets go of his cup and takes the blanket off of his shoulders, placing it back down on the couch where he'd gotten it from. His mother always likes to have it over her lap whenever she watches TV.

The front door slams open, and at first Bucky thinks it's because of the wind, but when his father stomps into the kitchen, his dirty and wet boots still on and leaving behind a disgusting trail, Bucky knows that something isn't right.

His father takes a hold of his jaw, slamming him against the kitchen cabinets and almost spilling the mugs of hot chocolate on the counter. Bucky watches him in shock, his hand resting against his father's, which has a tight grip on him.

His mother appears in the background, her eyes just as wide as Bucky's.

''W- What-'' he tries to rasp out.

''There are tracks in the fucking yard! Didn't I warn you about going over to his house?!'' his father screams to his face, and Bucky tries to turn away.

His mother yells something in the background but Bucky can't make out what because his father continues his screaming.

''You'd think that you'd have the common sense to stay away from that house!'' he tells him, his face red from the cold air, and anger. ''I was ready to give you a chance, to get you to admit that sleeping with one of _my_ good friends was a mistake and should never have happened but no! Of course, that's not what you do. You only think about yourself, just like always! Who cares how your mother feels or how I feel when you can just go around being _a_ _slut_!''

Bucky manages to stomp his foot on his father's and when the man groans, letting go of him for just a second, Bucky takes the chance and slaps him across the face, the same way his father had done to him a long time ago.

He moves out of the man's way and catches his breath, his body going on nothing else but adrenaline.

His mother is in tears.

''For what it's worth,'' Bucky starts, looking at both of his parents. His father's back is facing him. ''I didn't go to Steve's house, I went to fix the chicken coop door. The hinges are still broken.''

No other sound is heard but his mother's sniffles. Bucky fights the urge to say something comforting to her.

''You should go and take a look at the tracks yourself before the hail takes them all away,'' Bucky tells them, taking the first step on the stairs. ''Oh, and I made you hot chocolate. Thought you'd be cold when you got back. Enjoy.''

And he climbs up the stairs again, leaving the uncomfortable silence behind him.

The pillow beneath him muffles the scream that Bucky has been holding in for a while.

Everything is silent downstairs, he can't even hear his parents walking around or talking. Even the TV isn't on and usually around this time of night, they're watching one of the quiz shows that they've loved ever since Bucky and his sister were children.

When Bucky lifts his head from the pillow, the lamp on his cabinet shines a light on the stack of books he's been meaning to read for a long time but never has gotten around to, and he sits up.

On the bottom of the stack, there's something else. Bucky reaches over and pushes the books out of the way. A cord becomes visible and Bucky stops breathing for a second, a grin appearing on his face.

His old laptop.

He'd completely forgotten about it and hasn't used it in years. After he'd gotten his first smartphone at fourteen, he'd abandoned it.

With a grunt, he takes it from the cabinet and blows the disgusting amount of dust on it away before setting it down on his bed. He opens it up and it begins to whir.

After a couple of tries, Bucky hits the keyboard, annoyed. He can't remember his damn password. He thinks back to the year he'd gotten the laptop because he's almost completely sure that he hasn't changed his password since then, and suddenly, his cheeks turn red at the memory.

He types the password in and hits enter.

It's correct.

''Fucking hell,'' Bucky laughs to himself, embarrassed.

How he could have thought that _'Whatdoesthefoxsay01'_ could ever be a good password, let alone funny, he has no idea.

The password will be one of the very few things he's never going to tell Steve. The poor man knows more embarrassing things about him than anyone else in the world but this isn't something he gets to have over Bucky.

_If Bucky ever gets to see him again._

Bucky pushes the upsetting thought out of his mind, and focuses on laughing at his wallpaper that is of 'Doge'.

He opens up the browser, which takes forever, and his laptop begins to whir even louder. Bucky's sure it's got just as much, if not more, dust on the inside as it had had on the outside.

It's been a while since he's done this but the moment he types in the letter f into the search engine, it suggests Facebook to him. He clicks on it and waits for the page to load. Right now he's glad he has never bothered to delete his profile, even though it's been forever since he's used it.

The page finally appears on the screen and the site has changed a lot from the last time he'd seen it. He goes through his list of friends and lets out a sigh of relief when he sees that his sister's profile is still there.

He clicks on it.

She's posted pictures of some flowers last summer but that's about it. He opens the messenger.

> _Hi Becks. I don't know if you even use facebook anymore but there's something I've got to tell you and you have to promise me you won't get mad. I need your help._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This entire series was meant to be just a one shot (Timber, the first part of this series) and here we are... This is part 10 and it has multiple chapters!! I can't believe it but I'm glad you guys seem to enjoy these little stories of mine. Thank you for reading and all the comments and likes/kudos. They mean the world to me.
> 
> Also, I'm not one to beg, but I'd love it if you went to check out my other Stucky fic called If I loved you less (I might be able to talk about it more.) I've been working on it for three years (that's not a typo) and I just want people to read it cause I'm really proud of it :)
> 
> Also, come chat with me on Tumblr if you want to. You'll find me there by the name of Rosetterer.


	2. contemplation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go, this one is a little shorter but don't worry, the MAIN chapter in this fic will be LOOOONG (*cough*7000+ words*cough*)

A big box of cupcakes is set on the table and Bucky's mother places a small kiss on her husband's cheek as he walks around the table and takes a seat next to her. The only reason Bucky is in the kitchen is that he has to be.

It's his mother's birthday.

His father pokes a candle into the chocolate cupcake in the middle of the box and brings it closer to Winifred. They don't bother singing to her, because she doesn't like being sung to or being the center of attention. His mother closes her eyes, and blows out the candle, making a wish.

His father claps awkwardly and places the chocolate cupcake on his wife's plate.

''Which one do you want, James?'' his mother asks, smiling softly at him as if everything's alright.

''I don't want any of them, thanks,'' he tells her, his eyes focused on the strawberry cupcake with the white chocolate frosting. He loves sweets and wants nothing more than to grab the delicious-looking dessert, but he doesn't want to give his parents the satisfaction of accepting anything from them.

His mother ignores his answer and continues to speak. Her smile changes into a teasing one. ''So… Did you get me a birthday present?''

Bucky doesn't think he's a great gift-giver but he's always gotten something for his mother on her birthday as that is something you are meant to do. This year, he hasn't even had the chance to get anything because he's been stuck in the house for days.

''Sure,'' he replies and gives her a small smile back. ''It just hasn't arrived yet.''

His mother leans over to him and places a kiss on his forehead.

''I knew you wouldn't have forgotten.''

Bucky gives her one more awkward smile before turning to his father, whose cheek is still a little red from yesterday's incident. ''May I go to my own room since I'm not going to be having any cupcakes?''

''Go,'' his father scoffs at him, and as Bucky gets up and starts making his way up the stairs, he hears his mother telling him something about saving him a cupcake or two.

Bucky ignores her and continues up the stairs. He's glad he'd finished his chores early, which he's sure he's never done before. All of this boredom has definitely made him work more, that's for sure.

He goes into his room and stands by the window. It's not snowing anymore and the small amount of snow that had been on the ground has mostly melted away. The light is on at Steve's house and it makes Bucky smile.

''I miss you,'' he whispers, his hand coming to rest on the cold window. It feels like it's been forever since he's seen the man last when in reality, it hasn't even been a week.

He misses his presence. When Bucky's around him, he feels content and calm, like nothing could ever go wrong again. Like the world is suddenly a safe place. He finds himself laughing more often when he's with Steve and everything is just so… comfortable. There's a connection between them that Bucky can't explain. They can speak without saying a word, do things without a plan because they just know what they are meant to do, and it's just so easy to be _Bucky_ in Steve's company.

This thing of theirs had just started as having fun but Bucky would be lying if he said that nothing had changed between them. Every time he thinks of the man, he has to catch his breath and calm his heart down, and that's saying something.

He's never felt this way before about anyone.

The sound of a quiz show starting on the TV downstairs snaps Bucky out of his thoughts and he moves his hand away from the cold window. He hates this. All of this. He hates that his phone has been taken away, that he's basically a prisoner in his own home. He hates that he's being treated like a child.

He hates that he's once again allowing his parents to treat him this way.

Bucky goes over to his bed and grabs Steve's shirt from under the pillow. He takes off his sweater and throws it on the bed, reminding himself to put it away later because his mother will nag about it if she sees it just lying about. He puts the other man's shirt on, buttoning the small buttons with some struggle.

It's too big for him, but it's soft and comfortable, and it smells like Steve.

Bucky makes his way back downstairs.

When he takes a seat on the couch next to his mother, she smiles at him, but the smile disappears quickly when her eyes travel away from Bucky's face and to the shirt that he's wearing. She recognizes it.

His mother turns to look away from him and focuses back on the TV. His father doesn't even look at him.

Bucky smiles.

Catching his breath under the warm stream of water, Bucky watches the ropes of his cum washing away from the wall as he holds onto his cock. He slams his free hand against the wall, gasping for air, and carefully moves his other hand over his softening cock one more time.

He feels like he's going to go crazy if he doesn't get to feel Steve's touch again soon.

He turns off the shower and dries himself up quickly. He changes into a clean pair of sweatpants and an old hoodie he'd found at the back of his closet before stepping out of the only warm room in the house.

He's about to go and check if Becca has replied to his message, which she hadn't this morning but she'd seen it and Bucky doesn't know what to make of that. Maybe she just doesn't want to be part of the family drama anymore. He wouldn't blame her if that was the case.

''I need your help outside,'' his father appears in the hallway before Bucky even gets close to the stairs. ''We have to fix the chicken coop.''

Bucky knows better than to say no, and puts his shoes and jacket on, covering his wet hair with the hood of his hoodie to keep it from freezing when he goes outside.

He follows after his father, and together they move the wheelbarrow away from the coop's door.

The new hinges his father had bought were quick and easy to install. It took them longer to take out the old ones without breaking the door or the walls of the coop.

They also replaced a couple of wood planks on the back of the coop with new ones that his father had gotten from a neighbor.

Despite the cool air, Bucky feels sweaty once they're done. The shower he'd taken had been useless.

''We'll have to paint those planks to match the rest of the coop,'' his father tells him as they stand there, admiring their work. ''Can't do it now though but maybe in the spring.''

''Yeah.''

''I'm just glad that the door is okay,'' his father continues. ''It must be quite sturdy to survive falling in such a wind.''

''Of course, it's sturdy,'' Bucky tells him and shoves his frozen hands into his pockets. ''Steve helped me build it.''

The relaxed demeanor of his father disappears in a heartbeat and he doesn't say anything before he rushes back into the house, where Bucky's mother is cooking. Bucky smirks to himself and doesn't bother going back inside just yet. The chickens are making small, happy sounds inside of the warm coop.

Bucky can hear yelling coming from inside the house and takes one more walk around the coop to make sure everything's good before he walks up the stairs and into the house. Into the warzone that he'd created.

Bucky walks down the stairs, the same way he does every night when the quiz show comes on and he sits down in his spot next to his mother. The shirt Steve had left behind is so warm that the only reason why he's wearing it again tonight isn't just to get his parents riled up. It's genuinely the best thing Bucky has ever worn when it comes to comfort.

Quiz shows have never been his thing but his parents have always loved them. To him, they are just a little too loud and a little too obnoxious, and that's coming from him. Bucky chuckles softly at his thoughts and opens up the book he'd brought down with him.

Despite the fight his parents had had earlier, everything feels almost normal in the house. There is a certain kind of tension around at all times though and Bucky's sure that he's not the only one who can feel it. A stranger could walk into the house and feel it the moment they stepped in, that's how bad it has gotten in the past several days.

His mother claps when the woman on the show wins something, and the woman's happy screams fill the living room.

Bucky glances at the TV, away from the first page of his book. He watches as the host of the show interviews the woman who's won, asking her how she feels now and so on. The woman is in tears as she holds the big cheque in her hands.

''This is all I've ever wanted,'' the woman says into the microphone and starts to sob.

The host pats her awkwardly on the shoulder. ''Well, don't worry, nobody's gonna take it away from you now.''

There's a knock on the door, and Bucky gets up automatically, torn out of the quiz show world he'd been sucked into for a moment.

His father pushes him back down and goes to the door himself.

He and his mother look over the couch and watch as his father opens the door to whoever it is that has decided to bother them this late in the evening. The man stops, his eyes wide as he stares at the person Bucky nor his mother can see.

A young woman steps into the house, a heavy-looking suitcase behind her.

''Becca?'' his mother gasps from where she's sitting on the couch. She stares at Becca for a good while, almost as if she can't believe she's real. Soon the surprise falters from her face and she turns to look at Bucky.

''Happy birthday,'' he whispers to her and winks.

Becca steps into the living room, leaving the suitcase by the door. She looks at all of them and places her hands on her waist.

''Would anyone like to tell me what the hell is going on here?''

It's late, and Steve is standing by the kitchen counter, staring at the pot of porridge he'd just finished making. He'd taken two big scoops of it onto his plate but there was still plenty leftover. He'd made enough for two. Again.

He knows he's going to have to throw it away in the morning because it won't be any good then, and he doesn't even have any chickens to feed it to.

With a sigh, he makes his way to the table and sits down. There's no need to take the sugar container out of the cabinet or the berries out of the freezer because Bucky isn't here to add them to his own plate of porridge.

That man has taken so much space in Steve's life that he doesn't even know who or what he is without him. Or maybe he does. He's the man he'd been before meeting Bucky, happy for sure, but stuck in a rut with not much to look forward to. Every day had been the same, and with Bucky, that was never the case.

The porridge tastes just as boring as ever but it's not bad. The only reason Steve has ever eaten it is because he knows it's good for him.

He sets his spoon down and gets up from his seat, heading toward the freezer. He's never been one for sweets but he's always liked berries. No matter how many times Bucky has tried to make him taste his porridge, Steve has always refused.

Maybe he should learn not to take things so seriously all the time. He has a feeling he's already gotten slightly better at that ever since Bucky had come along. The man does what he wants, how he wants it. He eats whatever he wants, not just because something is healthy, but because it tastes good.

He grabs the berry container from the freezer and brings it over to the table. As he sits back down, he opens up the container and pours a good amount of the berry mixture on the top of his cooled-down porridge.

He swirls the porridge around with his spoon, letting the berries melt just for a little while, the way he's seen Bucky do it many times, and only then takes a spoonful of it and puts it in his mouth.

It's good.

_Really good._

Steve finishes his plate of porridge in two minutes, his new record, and wipes away the berry stains from around his lips, that he thinks are there because Bucky always has them after eating.

The clock strikes ten, and he takes his plate and spoon over to the sink. He fills himself a glass of water and grabs the small bottle of ibuprofen from his cabinet. His head is hurting and he knows he won't be able to sleep if he just lets it be.

The glass of water and the pill that's hopefully going to get rid of his headache are placed on the counter nearest to the living room, and Steve turns to look at the front door. With a sigh, he makes his way to it and opens it, stepping out into the cold night.

It's so dark that he can barely see anything and he knows it's just another sign of winter. He can't wait for the snow to properly fall, even though it does add some extra work to his life.

With a flip of a switch, the light on his yard turns on and it illuminates the little specks of something alike to snow that are falling from the sky. He looks around the corner, to where he knows the Barnes' house is and wishes, just like every night, that Bucky can see the light.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the lovely comments you've left me! They keep me inspired, so keep them coming, please ;)


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